


Tumblr Prompt Ficlet Series

by allofthecaffeine, delicatelyglitterywriter



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Gen, Multi, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-15
Updated: 2019-01-30
Packaged: 2019-10-10 21:57:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 3,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17434244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allofthecaffeine/pseuds/allofthecaffeine, https://archiveofourown.org/users/delicatelyglitterywriter/pseuds/delicatelyglitterywriter
Summary: This is a series of short lil ficcy's based off of prompts I receive on Tumblr. Mostly DW, might have more fandoms later.





	1. What's In Your Mouth?!?

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the anonymous ask that requested: hello i would like to request 13/river for the cat prompt: "What’s in your mouth? What do you have in your mouth?!?”, please and thank you :D

River had regrets. Regrets about life, about fashion, about her previous taste in lovers. But there was nothing, nothing she regretted more than taking the Doctor to the botanical gardens on Molani 5. Twice already she'd had to drag her wife away from the carnivorous Ubb trees - "But they look so fluffy, River!" - and, much to her chagrin, fetch her from the 60-foot Koss vines she kept climbing whenever River turned her back. But this. This took the cake. 

"Doctor," she called, stern but loving. The Doctor spun around. Folded her hands behind her back.

"Wha'?"

_Oh, hell. She's chewing something._

"Sweetie, what's in your mouth?"

"...."

"What do you have in your mouth?!?!"

"Muffing, Wiver."

River glared. The Doctor held strong, staring back, defiance hidden behind mock innocence. River sighed. Rolled her eyes.

_Stars, she is hopeless..._


	2. Gun. Mouth. Now.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the anonymous prompt: 13/River + "gun. mouth. now"

If there was one thing River Song hated to love about her wife, it was her blatant enthusiasm over everything. Including, at this particular moment, her love of birthdays. Yaz - the poor, unfortunate soul about to fall victim to one of the Doctor's catastrophic surprise parties - was camped out in the library. The boys had been enlisted to 'keep watch', leaving River to supervise the Doctor as she bedazzled the console room.

"You be careful up there, sweetie!" She called, looking upwards. Her wife was hanging from a hammock strung up on the ceiling, staple gun in hand, fastening the streamers.

"I'm always careful. You know me!" She threw back, rather absently. Shnk, shnk, shnk. Another streamer secured. It was then that, much to her wife's alarm, the Doctor stuffed the staple gun into her mouth to rifle around her person for more.

"Oh, you spit that out right now! You're like a child!"

"Whah?!? I hank hear oo!!"

"I said," shouted River, hands on hips, genuinely worried, "spit it out. Gun. Out of mouth. Now."

A moment. Then,

"Now, I mean it, sweetie!"

The Doctor spat it out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Send me more prompts!!!!!! They keep my muse alive. URL is @allofthecaffeine


	3. Are You Stuck?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the anonymous prompt: Hi I would like to request 13/river for the cat prompt: “Are you stuck? You got yourself up there, you can get down.” , please??? in fact I would love to read all the cat prompt with 13/river hahaha

"Please, River?"

"No!"

"Pleeeeaaaase?"

Silence. The Doctor sighed, adjusted herself as best she could, hanging as she was from one of the roundels in the console room. She'd climbed up to perform some 'routine TARDIS maintenance', toolbox hidden inside her dimensionally transcendent bum bag. Then, approximately 2 metres from the top, she'd run out of hand-holds. Gotten stuck, too, as she'd pretty much flung herself up from the roundel below her.

 _These legs definitely used to be longer,_ she thought, looking over her shoulder and down, down, down. River looked very amused.

"Are you stuck, my love?" She called up, feigning obliviousness.

"Yes!"

The Doctor could've sworn she saw her smirking. She was too high up to tell.

"Well," continued River, "I think it's only fair for me to say that, since you got yourself up there, you'll have to get yourself down. I'm sure you can figure something out."

The Doctor groaned, leaning her head against her inner elbow as she dangled. River was so going to pay for that, later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Keep! Sending! Me! Prompts! I'm living for this rn. URL is @allofthecaffeine


	4. Detention

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the anonymous prompt: here is another prompt: clara must supervise detention but she is running late so 11 steps in for her. when clara finally arrives, she is greeted with chaos, bc it's the doctor. she is Not Amused and makes the doctor sit through detenion with the rest of the students.

Clara knew it was a bad idea to call the Doctor as soon as she hung up the phone. But she had an appointment across town and knew she wouldn’t make it in time to host Detention. So she’d called. He’d agreed. And now, she regretted.

Running up the steps of the school, she prayed to every god she could think of that her classroom would still be in one piece.

——————–

The Doctor ducked, the paper plane zooming through the place his head had been at an incredible speed. No one in Detention had wanted to follow Clara’s instructions - _Boring_ , they’d called it - and so, in order to keep the children happy, he’d offered to teach them how to fold a _proper_ paper plane. The one they all called Bullseye had gotten really into it, drawing on the desk as well as the planes. Some kids even used paints. Musing thumped loudly from a speaker hidden from his view. A plane filled with tack pins, still wet with yellow paint, hit the wall by his ear with a _thnk_.

The Doctor smiled. _Clara is going to be so pleased,_ he thought _. Look how much fun they’re having._

——————–

Clara almost ran down the corridors in her haste to get back to her room. There was music playing; the bass-y, electronic music favoured by many of her students. She sped up. Heels clacked loudly against the floor, and she scrambled around in her purse for her keys as she moved.

But when she reached her door, she found it unlocked. Ajar, even. Opening it completely, her jaw dropped.

Dozens of paper planes were soaring through the air, paint and pins and glitter covering almost every surface. The music was even louder, here, and Clara watched in horror as Billy Matthews painted a phallus on his desk.

“What on earth is going on in here?!?!?!”

——————–

The children went silent.

The Doctor turned around to face the door, meeting Clara’s glare with his own optimistic gaze. Watched as she frowned.

“Doctor,” she said, voice flat and dangerous. He gulped.

“I asked you to mind the Detention students,” Clara continued.

“Yes! And I did, look! They’re all enjoying themsel-”

“They aren’t _supposed_ to be enjoying themselves, Doctor. Detention is punishment.”

“….. Oh.”

Clara stepped further into the classroom, and the Doctor watched her shut the door with a soft _click_. She leveled her glare at everyone, most of all him, as she surveyed the damage. Raised an eyebrow.

“Well then,” she said, walking over to her desk. She swept off two fallen planes, righted a pencil cup. “I guess you lot have some cleaning up to do.”

——————–

Clara observed from her desk as the students picked up the planes. Straightened desks. Cleaned up glitter and paint and turned off the music. As they sat back down in their seats, ready to sit out the last half hour of their Detention the proper way, she saw the Doctor pout. He was wedged into one of the desks between Holly Wright and Esther Bloomsbury, and looked very uncomfortable. She almost took pity on him. But no. This was his mistake. And now he had to pay the price.

“Right,” she announced, addressing her pupils with a smirk, “roll call. Doctor?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am loving this ficcy series so KEEP UP THE PROMPTS!!!!!!! @allofthecaffeine on tumblr


	5. Autistic!Thirteen Prompt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based off of the anonymous prompt: prompt: autistic!13th doctor, please

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I received this prompt a couple of days ago, and have been working really hard to make it as accurate a portrayal as possible. I am incredibly grateful for the assistance given by delicatelyglitterywriter; without her amazing pointers and contributions, this ficcy probably wouldn't exist.
> 
> DGW note: Sophie here is non-autistic, so I made her write a non-autistic version of autistic!13, because a lot of research has to go into writing an autistic character, especially if you are non-autistic. I am autistic, and so wrote an autistic version. Non-autistic POV is aligned left, and autistic POV is aligned right.

The Doctor had been bouncing around the TARDIS all morning, talking about their next adventure. Something about 'the biggest marketplace in the galaxy' and 'do not under any circumstances eat any of the food'. Needless to say, she was obviously looking forward to it. Yaz smiled, looking across the console at her.

_ Another day, another adventure, _ she thought, grinning wider.

They landed with a thud. Ryan ran forward, Yaz hot on his tail. The doors opened. She gasped. The marketplace was crowded and loud, buzzing with thousands of voices. Row after row of stalls and vendors lined the streets, banners and flags advertising their wares. It was beautiful.

Yaz turned, hoping to ask the Doctor a question as to  _ why _ , exactly, they couldn't eat the food. Stopped. Reached out her hand to get Ryan's attention, and gestured to Graham as he exited the TARDIS. Something was wrong.

The Doctor was drawn inwards against herself, leaning against the edge of her ship. Stiff. Head turned away from the crowd. Her hands kept tugging at her hair, nails scraping at her scalp.

* * *

 

It had begun midmorning. She really should have seen it coming.

The Doctor knew the early signs of sensory overwhelm, and knew what to do to stop it from ever happening. But she ignored the signs and kept bounding around, going on and on about the biggest shopping centre on this side of the galaxy, and she couldn't stop herself; not when she saw the excited looks on their faces. That was at her own peril.

Now, as she watches Yaz, Ryan, and Graham leave the TARDIS, she knows she really should have called it off. She knows if she steps out there, she won't be able to stop it. But what else can she do? She can't tell them there's a sudden change in plan; that would result in too many uncomfortable questions, which she couldn't answer, not when all her energy is focused on making sure she doesn't get overwhelmed. The Doctor shakes her head, knowing there's only one thing to do.

She takes a deep breath and follows her friends out.

Almost immediately it happens. 

The light is just  _ too _ bright, the sounds are  _ too _ noisy, and the smells are  _ too  _ smelly. She curls in on herself, shrinking against the  side of the TARDIS, her eyes squeezing shut. Anxiety grips her chest and he struggles to breathe as the sounds seem to close in on her like an iron clamp.

Her hands come up to tug at her hair, desperate to feel anything except the overwhelm. Her nails scratched at her scalp, begging for relief. She can't help but whine and cry. It's all just  _ too much _ .

* * *

With 

her focus now on the Doctor, she could make out whining, keening cries. A tall white alien with tentacles brushed past her, and Yaz watched as the Doctor flinched back and away.

Graham reached out to lay a hand on her shoulder but Yaz stopped him, last minute. She recognised what was happening to her friend; remembered one of her classmates, Georgie, reacting a similar way to the fairground they visited in year 4.            

"Don't touch her," she warned, stepping closer to the Doctor and turning to face the boys, "we need to get her back into the TARDIS. Ryan, can you keep the crowd away?"    

Ryan nodded.        

"Okay," she continued, "Graham, I need you to hold the door open. I'm going to see if I can get her inside, but I can't do that from over there."

Graham gave a thumbs up. Glanced at the Doctor, eyes betraying his concern, before moving to hold open the door. Yaz turned to her friend. She was still panicking, body curled in as close to the TARDIS as possible.  

"Doctor," Yaz called, voice as soothing as she could manage over the babble of  of the crowd, "Doctor, I need you to look at me. Focus on me, yeah? Look at my shirt. You helped me pick it out, remember? Come on."            

Talking didn't seem to have the desired effect. What Yaz had hoped would calm her seemed to have made things worse, the Doctor letting out a high-pitch screech and pulling her hands down over her ears. Yaz frowned. Then, _ I have an idea _ .

* * *

She feels a tentacle brush against her arm, jolting her senses like an electric shock. She flinches away with a scream. She doesn't bother checking if whoever had brushed her stops; she can't, not in the state she's in now.

_ In, out, in, out, in, out _ , she forces herself to think, trying to get control of her breathing. It's not working, but she tries. She knows if she could get control of her breathing, she'll be well on her way to being okay again.

She hears Yaz talking at her, but it was too  _ loud _ . She can't help the screech that escaped her as she sinks to her knees, clamping her hands down over her ears. 

It just  _ hurts _ .

* * *

Waving her credit stick at a nearby vendor, she rushed forwards and grabbed some sort of earmuff-like headset. Brought it back to the Doctor and held it out to her, hoping she'd notice.

She did. Her eyes, which had been darting between the shadows of nearby stalls, locked on to them. A hand darted out. Snatched them up. Shakily, hastily,After a minute, she started to visibly relax. Yaz smiled. Got her attention with a gentle wave, and gestured to the open door of the TARDIS.

A minute, then the Doctor moved. Stepped forward slowly, jerkily, still trying to stay as far away from the people as she could. Yaz watched, smiling as encouragingly as she could,  as her friend almost threw herself through the open door of her Time Ship. Turning, Yaz called out to Ryan and followed her friend inside.

Back in the TARDIS, away from the marketplace, the Doctor seemed calmer. She was still stiff, still pulled tightly inwards, resting against the wall. But the tugging slowed. The wailing stopped. Slowly but surely, Yaz observed as the Doctor started to come back to herself. She smiled.

_ Everything's going to be okay. _

* * *

The sounds become much quieter; much easier to bear. She draws in big gulps of air, the anxiety beginning to fade. She looks up at Yaz, smiling softly, motioning to the open doors of the TARDIS. Taking another deep breath, the Doctor shakily stands, averting her gaze. She knows she's still, but she can't stop it right now. She can't stop until she's inside again.

Staying as far away from everyone as possible to avoid being touched, she stumbles into the TARDIS, sucking in another big gulp of air, letting the familiar scent calm her. She leans on the console, letting herself recover. She knows her friends are watching, and she dreads the questions that will come after she's calm, but she can worry about that later. Right now, she needs to calm down. She feels the vibration of the TARDIS under her feet, and focuses on that. It's calming. 

As the last of anxiety fades, the Doctor sighs, sitting down on the ground. She'll be okay now, she knows. She just needs a bit of time. Just a bit of time. 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone has any prompts or headcanons they'd like me to write, send me an Ask on Tumblr! My URL is @allofthecaffeine :-)


	6. The Death Of Vine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based off of the anonymous prompt: prompt: the doctor is responsible for the death of vine.

The Doctor was sitting in the crawlspace under the floor of the motorcycle storage room, rewiring the underfloor heating. She'd noticed, the other day, when she came in to polish Clara's bike, that the temperature was incredibly high, and was determined to fix the issue lest the tyres be damaged.

Twenty minutes in, Ryan had walked in, tea in hand. Offered to help, if he could. There was a bit of a banter, then, in which she informed him that there was definitely not enough room for the two of them in the crawlspace. In the end, he'd settled down on the floor next to the hatch. Then, out of the blue, he'd asked her, _what exactly do you do when we're in Sheffield? Do you just hop forward or what?_

Which led to her mock-offended and emphatic assertion that yes, she did _have a life outside of her fam,_ and that she could _totally prove it, there's plenty of stories_.

"... and so I really had no choice but to ask them to shut it down," she was saying, voice straining to be heard over the crackling of her blowtorch. "After all," she continued, "Domliams are not to be trifled with."

She lowered the blowtorch, removing her welding mask to examine her work.

"So you're telling me," Ryan called down to her from above, "that Vine was being taken over by aliens, and you had to shut it down to save Earth."

"Yep!"

Ryan's groan of frustration startled her, and she shuffled backwards down the crawlspace. Poked her head out of the hatch.

"What?"

Ryan's hands, which had risen to cover his face, lowered. He looked down at her in exasperation.

"Do you have any idea," he said, voice low and level, "how frustrating its gonna be, knowing what killed Vine and not being able to tell anybody?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It has come to my attention that there is already a lil note thingy at the end of every chapter with my URL, but this is just me being annoying and adding another reminder; SEND ME PROMPTS!!!!!! (no smut tho plz I don't feel comfortable writing that)


	7. Hug

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based off of a post on my Tumblr in which it was decided that Graham should give Thirteen her first on-screen hug because Grandad Feels. Written for delicatelyglitterywriter, as she was the one that recommended that this would make a good ficcy :-)

Graham watched on from his place by the wall. The Doctor, usually full of life and light and laughter, was curiously still as she piloted them into the vortex. Subdued, even. Muted. He frowned. The effects of their imprisonment on Ak'atoor Ilmayana had taken a toll on all of them, sure, but this? This was unusual. No one had died. They'd all gotten out unharmed. Even after the Doc had begged them all to run, to leave her, they'd all made it.       

"Doc?" he called, softly, stepping forward. She glanced up at him. Looked away. He tried again.

"Doc, what's wrong?"        

A beat. Then,         

"That was too dangerous, Graham." She spoke quietly. Still avoiding his gaze.          

"It was too dangerous," she continued, "and you coulda' got hurt. You, or Ryan, or Yaz..." Her voice cracked on the last word, but she kept going. "I couldn't handle that. I've lost far too many friends already, I don't wanna loose you, too."

The Doctor looked up, then, and he saw it. In her eyes, the pain she felt about them getting hurt on her watch. _She was ready to sacrifice herself for us,_ he realised - not for the first time, but only now noticing the weight behind her actions.

Graham watched as she looked away again, lost in thought or memory. He gave into the temptation. Stepped forward, arms reaching out and around her, pulling her close. She was stiff at first, not expecting the hug and reluctant to reciprocate it. But she gave in.

As her arms wrapped tightly around his back, her face pressing into his collar, Graham couldn't help but wonder how long it had been since she'd let someone else do the comforting.


	8. Bite Your Tongue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompted by delicatelyglitterywriter during one of our chatty chat sessions: i prompt you with: "hold your tongue, or shall i have it cut out?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY! So , many apologies to those who have sent prompts; I AM WORKING ON THEM. I PROMISE. But school starts up again on Friday, and I was called back early to help with year 9 orientation week so I've been pretty stressed/busy/exhausted. NZ is also experiencing a heatwave rn so productivity WILL BE LOW for another couple of weeks. But, nevertheless, I am still thinking of you guys - so enjoy!

Her eyes glinted darkly in the dim light of the room. Before her was a man. A talking man. A blathering, bickering, whimpering man who should really learn to be a silent one.

She threw herself forward, her full weight forced against the arms of his chair. It skidded back a bit. Leant against the wall and she _snarled_ , white teeth shining in bright contrast to the madness in her eyes.           

"You bite that tongue of yours, Mr. Bradbury," she purred against the skin of his ear, "or shall I bite it off?"                 

The man - Mr. Bradbury - clamped his mouth shut at once. His jaw trembled in his effort to remain silent, and big, fat tears started to crawl down his cheeks.

That made her angry.

A hand, slim fingers held flat, hit his cheek and sent his head careening off to the side. He let out a sqeak.                 

"How dare you cry in front of me!" She screeched, forehead slamming against his as she leant in closer. Her weight hit the chair again as she continued, and the back cracked against the wall loudly.           

"How dare you cry after what you did to them! Do you have any idea what you've done? Who you've taken from me? Do you?"           

The man was trembling, now, his head jerking wildly from side to side. It didn't appear that she liked that answer, because her eyes went from dark to feral, her grin from menacing to dangerous. Mr. Bradbury screamed, and she lunged forward, her face pressed even closer to his.

"I warned you," she growled, "Bite. That. Tongue."            

His screaming cut off with a gurgle, and she pulled away, blood pouring from both of their mouths. She spat out his tongue and turned, again, to face her captive.                   

"Did you think I was bluffing?"

Her voice was dark and mad and dangerous, and as the blood dripped slowly down her chin and her prisoner cowered pitifully in his seat, Yaz grinned again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for nothing.

**Author's Note:**

> Send me prompts! @allofthecaffeine is my URL.


End file.
